


The Long Thaw

by TheAngelThyla



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers Tower, F/M, Memory Loss, Panic Attacks, Peppermint Mocha, Psychological Torture, Recovered Memories, Repressed Memories, Starbucks, Stark Tower
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:18:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9862160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAngelThyla/pseuds/TheAngelThyla
Summary: James "Bucky" Barnes and his long road to healing and freedom. (With a little redemption thrown in)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Thaw](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9814655) by [TheAngelThyla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAngelThyla/pseuds/TheAngelThyla). 



> So I wrote a drabble at work and my sister suggested writing a long version.  
> I'm not sure when I'll be posting but I'll try to every Monday at least.

_Life isn't always what you think it should be._

_I mean, I don't think I should have a gaping hole for a memory. But that's just the way my life is._  
_Well, sort of. I can remember some things and others are coming back every day: the smell of fresh baked bread, waking up to dirty feet in my face, the sensation of falling. These things are all disjointed shadows of memories, but they're all I have._

_It's cold at night even if it is summer. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones and makes you feel like you're turning to stone._

_I'm hiding in an alley, under some boxes and newspaper for warmth, when I hear voices._

“Steve, come on, you really think he's out here?”

“No, but I've got to start somewhere.”

A sigh. “Look, Sam. I know you don't approve, but he's my best friend and I have to help him.”

_Now if there's one clear memory in my head, it's one involving the owner of that voice. And it definitely feels like I should know who he's talking about, but... It's like there's this wall between that answer and I..._

“Okay, I'll help you look for him.”

“Thank you-”

“But! I think you're going about this all wrong. Do you really think a guy who's had his brain literally hardwired to never be detected is going to suddenly let himself be found?”

“Well...”

“And he's gotta be scared. You on his trail is just going to make him run and never let his guard down.”

“I thought you said you were going to help.” _The sass on this guy..._

“Let me finish. I think we need Stark's help.” _Where do I know that name...?_ “He probably has access to satellites and every camera in the country.”

“And if Bucky's not in the country?”

_Wait... Didn't he call me Bucky?_

A sigh. “Then let's hope you're passport is still up-to-date.”

_I could almost see that stupid, blonde idiot grinning._

_I decided to follow them. I mean, who else could tell me anything about my past?_

_Plus, my butt's going numb from sitting on the frozen concrete so long..._

  


  


_Hang on a second... I shot him four times. Why isn't he still in the hospital?!?!_

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky discovers a list of Good Things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post a chapter Saturday but I'm sick and was having problems. (Plus I had to watch my sisters who are way sicker than I am)  
> So sorry, enjoy the chapter, yadayada. I'm honestly too tired and still ill at the moment.

So following him turned out to be slightly more complicated than I originally thought. And by “slightly” I really mean “who's bright idea was it to follow this idiot?”

Downsides: I had to smuggle myself onto their plane and hide in the cargo hold (with no light to read by, may I add) and wound up in a huge city I knew nothing about with frayed nerves and an empty stomach.

Upsides: I did have a few new memories, even if they were mostly of flying in a plane being shot at.

I remember most clearly flying over a forest with Steve in that spangly outfit of his and a group of men cracking jokes before we jumped out. I don't know how I can tell you this, but Steve got caught in a tree and we didn't ever let him forget it.

What I have learned is I hate cramped spaces. But I haven't had time to overthink things because a certain idiot decided that taking a stupid taxi and then going into a stupid building that an ant couldn't get into without notice would be a good idea.

I am kinda glad that I was able to discover Starbucks. There's one on every corner, but I'd never gone in.

Luckily people in New York are so oblivious that they didn't notice their wallets (and other valuables) missing for quite a while. (And it definitely helps for them not to look at you because you look homeless, which I sorta am)

I'd been able to buy a cell phone from a convenience store next door.

Another addition to the Good List: Wifi. Steve Rogers aka “Captain America” was all over the Internet. He was a war hero as well as a movie star. And a founding member of a group of people know as “The Avengers.”

And where were these potential enemies based out of? Of course, it was the building across the street from me. The one Mr. Movie Star was in.

After three hours (and two Peppermint Mocha refills) I'm nearly asleep and the baristas are about ready to kick me out and close up shop, when they finally come out.

Steve, his friend Sam ( _Didn't I rip a wing off of him?_ ) and another man who the Internet calls Tony Stark, but I swear his name is Howard.

I follow them to a small Japanese sushi place.

I slide into a booth not too far away. (with my hood hiding my face, because I'm not an idiot)

They slide into chairs at a table full of other members of this Avengers gang.

One of them, a redhead, I recognize. I think I did try to kill her, but that doesn't explain the impressions; Warm sun on my face, the scent of gunpowder and lipstick, bruises and laughter.

I break out of my reverie long enough to order miso soup and remember I'm here for information.

“So, Capsicle, why don't you tell everybody about Project: Zombie Hunt.”

_Wait... What?_

“Tony...”

The redhead sighs. “Steve... What if he doesn't want you to find him?”

“Then I'm going to nail his feet to the floor if I have to.”

The whole table is silent.

“I understand you guys probably won't want to help, but he's my friend; I can't just let him go through this alone.”

The group keeps arguing (mostly variations of “he's my friend” and “but he's dangerous.”) and it becomes more and more obvious that they're talking about me.

_Why would he fight his friends for me?_

The redhead they called Natasha (though my brain kept connecting “Natalia”) was quiet most of the debate. That is, until she said something to silence the whole table.

“He's not as dangerous as you think he is.”

“Nat,” the archer, who was appropriating half her seat for his feet stated. “He shot you once and then tried to do it again.”

“But he wasn't always like that.”

_I wasn't?_

“I knew him back in the Red Room.”

The group all starts asking questions at once, until she motions them quiet.

“I'm not going to do the whole sharing and caring routine, but I will tell you that Cap's right; we can't just go on like nothing's happened.”

“We wouldn't leave one of our own.”

_Sam, I'm beginning to regret beating you up._

“Okay, then. What's the plan?”

I was in a bit of a distracted state while they discussed the plan.

These people only knew me as a walking weapon but they still wanted to help.

One good word and they were all making suggestions to find me.

Even after I tried to kill some of them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave some feedback?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories and Decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept being bugged all week to post another one before the week was out so yay, I've finally been able to post.  
> Now I'll be at my grandmother's the whole weekend so maybe I'll be able to post another one? Who knows.

Everyone left together. I followed as far as I could, but I ended up going to a hotel a few blocks away. _(Did you know that it's illegal to ask for ID if the credit card is signed? Man, I love the internet)_

It's a low-key hotel; not too excessive and not really obsessive about rules or security, but there's hot water and (mostly) clean sheets.

Cable, too, which is where I found a rerun of Natalia subtly sassing the entire world's governments. After that, I try to sleep but I keep being terrified awake by memories.

The worst one I can't explain. I remember cold wind and the acrid taste of fear. I'm holding onto a bar that's slowly breaking, Steve is reaching for me, and finally... I fall.

I wake up screaming every time.

Other dreams vary in emotion, era, and intensity. I have flashes of wars, assassinations, training sessions.

I remember being tortured – _experimented on_ – by men in lab coats; they spoke German and had emblems like an angry octopus.

I remember dancing. Various women are in these, but most prominent is a woman with hair like fire and eyes that pierce your soul.

At about 3am, I gave up on sleep and started writing out everything.

I think my earliest memory is walking down a street, collecting bottles in a small wagon, with a girl about two years younger than me ( _I think she was my sister_ ) and a tiny Steve.

I remember Steve liking his coffee thick enough that could stun a bull.

I remember sparring with Natalia.

I remember bathing in a washtub with my teeth chattering because I'd let everyone else have the hot water.

I remember sitting around a fire, laughing with the Howling Commandos.

I remember so much, but it's just disconnected scraps.

_My mind feels like a puzzle that only has a few pieces._

According to what I found on the Internet, I died more than seventy years ago, so where have I been all this time?

I know I tried to kill Steve. I know I was sent on that mission. But why? And by who?

I sigh and lean back in my chair.

Every answer I have just gives me more questions and I can't survive on stolen credit cards forever.

I think back on how Steve sounded last night. He was so intent on finding me.

I hurt him and he still thought of me as his friend.

And Natalia... She could have answers about where I've been. She mentioned a Red Room?

But... What if they won't help me? What if seeing me reminds them of what I am?

I've killed so many... Done so much damage... Why would any of them help a monster?

“Ah, screw it,” I grumble before getting ready to leave.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, I know it's a short chapter but adding it to the next one would make it a bit too long sooo.  
> Feedback would be great (and thanks to all of you who've already given me a kudos, just ask my sister about how excited I've been)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky bucks up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I screwed up and forgot that this chapter was short, too, so I'm posting again. Yay?

After stopping off at Starbucks for God's Gift to man (a Peppermint Mocha) and an apology coffee for Steve ( _Is a quintuple shot of espresso too much?_ ) I walked into Stark Tower and nearly turned around and made a run for it.

Everyone was in a suit with neat hair ad a briefcase. Most had nametags with their picture on them and here I was in a stolen hoodie and my long, unkempt hair barely kept out of my face by the baseball cap I snagged off a street vendor.

So I steel myself and walk up to the front desk.

“Um...” _Oh, crap. She's looking at me funny. What do I say?_  
I'm saved by a ping from the receptionist's computer and a British voice.

“Good morning, Sargent.” _Wait, what?_ “Miss Argent, would you direct our guest to the private elevator?”

Her whole demeanor changes at the mention of the “private elevator.” She immediately starts calling me “sir” and asking if there's anything I need.

She shows me to the elevator and I step inside.

“Welcome to Stark Tower, sir.”

_The elevator is talking. Don'tfreakoutdon'tfreakoutdon'tfreakoutdon'tfreakout..._

“Thank you?” I pause, looking down at the coffee cups.

I notice there are different buttons on the panel. There's the usual numbers (and, man, does this place have a lot of floors) but there are also themed ones. There's Steve's shield, a red hourglass, a bow and arrow emblem, and... Oh, each of these floors have buttons corresponding to the team members.

The elevator stops and the door opens. I step out into what looks like a gigantic living room with a bar and a couch that looks like it belongs on a spaceship.

“Bucky?” I turn and standing in a doorway is Steve. I swallow dryly. _Okay, there's no turning back now. He's already seen me and I can't just start running._

“Heya, Stevie.”

“Bucky?”

“I, um, I brought you coffee.”

He takes both cups, sets them down on one of the side tables, and next thing I know, I'm being engulfed in a bear hug.

All I can hear in my head is, “ _too close too close too close._ ”

He finally lets go and I realize I was holding my breath.

“Buck?”

“I'm fine.” My head starts to clear, slowly, but enough for me to smile crookedly.

Steve smiles, if a little melancholy.

“Aw, look at the big, bad assassin. Guess he's not so scary after all.”

“Tony!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments would be awesome?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First days in the Tower. Yay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'ma be real with you: I was going to post yesterday but didn't have any internet last night except for on my phone and, tbh, I really wasn't in the mood to type out the whole thing on that. So now I have it and you have this.  
> Now, I'm going to try to relax before bed and I have to get up extra early tomorrow. (Long shift)

“So...” Everyone has ended up on the couches and I really need to break the tension. “Sorry about shooting you.” _Nailed it._

I glance at Natalia. “And for trying to kill you.”

She just raises an eyebrow.

I look at Sam, who's trying not to laugh for some reason. “And for tearing your wing off.”

And that results in laughter from him and the archer.

“It's okay, they're just being idiots.” The guy with the glasses seems nice. And I really need to figure out who he is...

“What are you doing here?” There's Steve, subtle as a brick wall.

I sigh and brush my hair out of my face and decide going for honesty. “I need answers.”

Steve's face softens. “Yeah, okay. What do you want to know?”

“I know who I am and I've pieced together from the internet-”

“Wait, you've been on the internet?” Stark (Tony or Howard) interjects. “How?”

I pull out my phone.

“Where'd you get that?”

I open my mouth, thinking to explain the barest details of how I got the money for it, when Sam saves me.

“Anyway. Did you have any questions?”

“Yeah,” I look at Natalia again. “What's the Red Room?”

She doesn't react other than a slight darkening behind the eyes.

“The Red Room was where I was trained...”  
She says it flatly and unemotional, but... I can tell it brings up painful memories.

“And I was there.”

She nods.

I should leave that alone. Even if it leaves another gaping hole in my past, I don't want to cause more pain.

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

After that awkwardness, Steve puts me up in one of the rooms in his apartment. He really doesn't like having such a large space all to himself, but he says it will be better having me around.

_I just hope I won't be too big of a disappointment..._

He keeps rattling on like a kid on Christmas. He finally stops when he shows me my room, though I think that's more so I can give an opinion. ( _And isn't that weird to be allowed_ )

The room is modern and way too big for one person, like the rest of the apartment, but there are a couple homey touches; like a few books on the desk and a warm-looking, blue blanket folded on the end of the bed.

_And it's mine._

“So, what do you think?”

“I like it.”

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

Steve had to go “be bored at work.” I know he was lying but I pretended he wasn't really trying to talk the local government into not having me “removed.”

Instead, I explored. Steve had already shown me around his place (three bedrooms, each with a private bathroom, a fully stocked kitchen, a dining room, and a huge living room, as well as a small exercise room and balcony) so I started on the common floors. I began at the bottom (omitting the laboratory floors, because no) and discovered that as well as having workout equipment in each apartment, there was a gym complete with a boxing ring, trapeze equipment, a gun range, and a pool.  _A pool!_

There was also a room that Jarvis (my guide and strange new friend) informed me was for “racket ball” and another with mirrored walls that Natalia danced in.

Up a level was the “Party Floor” or where I first showed up. It's definitely aptly named. (There's even a game room with video, board, and card games and billiard and foosball tables)

Next couple floors are the apartments and I'm trying to make Steve proud of me, not make everyone weirded out by my searching their apartments. (There are no bombs or listening devices in Steve's, I already checked)

Jarvis says the topmost floors are for missions and storage for Stark's suits and the quinjets, but just under that and over the apartments is a condo for no one really but it's where everyone spends time together.

_Huh. So the Party Floor is more for show._

I took the elevator up and started my search.

There's a living room, much like Steve's but on a larger scale, with an entire wall-spanning television, but it seems... warmer. More lived in.

There's a stack of movies on the floor by a shelf of them, a blanket is draped over the back of the couch, purple and fuzzy, and there's sound coming from another room.

There's an open-plan kitchen on one wall and beside it is a door leading to a hallway. Following the voices, I pass quite a few doors before I reach the source.

It's the archer. And my luck definitely remains unchanged, because there's Natalia.

The sun shines on her through the window, making her hair blaze.

“Hi,” she says when she sees me.

“Hey,” I respond, feeling like an idiot.

The archer ( _Barton. His name is Barton_ ) coughs and I realize I was staring.  _Whoops._

“Well, I'm gonna leave you two alone.” _Why is he smirking?_

Natalia gives him a glare but smiles as he leaves.

“So, how'd you find the place?”

I sit in the way-too-big-even-for-me chair left empty by Barton.

Natalia has her legs pulled up under her as she sits sideways in the chair with a mug that smells of flowers. The tea brings back memories if summer and a woman in a blue dress hanging laundry with a kettle whistling somewhere.

“James?”

I shake myself and swipe at my definitely not tearing eyes.

“Are you alright?” She doesn't move, careful and deliberate.

“I'm fine. Just a memory.” I smile slightly.

She nods like she understands.

_Maybe she does._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact for you: Most of the next couple of chapters were written on receipt paper because they won't let me have my small, nondescript notebook up at my empty-for-eight-hours register anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for panic attacks.

The room turned out to be a library. (I found this out slowly, as I was a bit distracted)

The walls are lined with shelves and anywhere there isn't a shelf, there's a chair.

We didn't really talk, just settled into a comfortable silence with books.

She was reading something called _After the Cure_ while I discovered an author named H. P. Lovecraft.

Neither one of us looked at the time until my stomach decided to make it's opinion known.

She laughed as she closed her book and stood.

“Come on, the team's getting together for dinner.”

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

When we stepped into the living room, again in a comfortable silence, it was into a war zone. ( _Not really, but it sure felt like it_ )

“Nat, make Clint stop stealing all the won tons!”

“Come on, I only took a few!”

Are we out of sweet and sour chicken already?”

“Hey, I was just coming to get you.” Steve was smiling, which meant I probably wasn't going to be escorted out in chains anytime soon.

I smile. (At least I try to)

“I was in the library.” I hold up my book, because of course I brought it with me.

He laughs.

“Alright, well, come on and eat before Clint eats it all.”

“Hey!” Clint fakes a wounded expression. “I resemble that remark.”

The rest of dinner passes in the same friendly banter. I learn that I like sweet but spicy is... less than pleasurable.

Sam and I end up in the corner of the room at one point. He worked in the VA center in DC helping people like me adjust to being civilians again. Like that's really an option for me, but some of his advice was good. No forcing memories, as that will make them harder to recover. My brain is healing and you don't run a marathon on a broken leg. And he said to make a list of good things. Done.

  1. Starbucks

  2. 2\. Wi-fi

  3. Books

  4. New friends




 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

It amazes me that I just got here this morning.

I've learned so much. I know I don't like hugs (as told by my mild panic this morning) but I can spend hours in silence with someone.

I started feeling overwhelmed after dinner, though, so I excused myself saying I “was tired.” In truth, I feel keyed-up and ready for fight.

But why? These people are my friends. There's no logical reason for me to be fine and then panic for no reason.

I stare up at the ceiling, my thoughts making it hard to sleep.

I try to breathe slowly, but I can't help but think that this is just too easy. _Why would anyone ever trust me?_

_And is this place really even safe? How do I know no one's going to burst through the door right now and drag me back to the chair?_

My mouth tastes like rubber and I can smell ozone. My hands are tightly fisted in the sheets.

My chest feels like it's being crushed and I can't breathe.

A knock on the door and I'm in the corned on the other side of the bed, knife brandished.

_They're not taking me back. Never again..._

“Bucky?” _Steve?_ “Bucky, it's me. I'm going to open the door. It's jut me. I'm unarmed, okay?”

The door opens and Stevie comes in with his hands clearly visible, like I'm a wounded animal.

“It's okay.” He's dressed in a plain, white t-shirt and blue sleep pants with cartoon sheep on them. For some reason, they help me breathe a little easier.

“Can I have the knife?” I'd forgotten I was holding it. “Buck, it's okay.” He gives me that puppy-eye face and slowly he comes close enough to take the blade.

He sets it on the night stand and slides to the floor, leaning against the bed, and crosses his legs.

“Wanna talk about it?”

I shake my head. _How'd he know?_

My confusion must show because he starts to explain how Jarvis registered my panic attack and woke him up.

“Sorry,” I croak out.

Steve stands and walks over to the mini fridge.

“No reason to be sorry.” He pulls two bottles of water out and hands one to me.

I take a swig while he slides back into his spot.

“Have you had these often?”

I nod.

“On the plane and-” I swallow a sip of water, trying to think straight without overthinking, “And when there's too many people or they're too close; Loud noises make my head fuzzy.”

He nods in understanding.

“Okay, what do you do when it happens?”

I shrug. Obviously I have no idea what I'm doing.

“Alright, the trick is to stop it before it gets bad, but that doesn't always work, so-”

“Wait, you get them?”

Steve shrugs, rolling the bottle between his hands.

“Couldn't get on a plane without having one for a while. Nightmares kept me up most of the night and the city just seemed to close in on me most of the time.”

I look at the wall on the other side of the bed, steeling myself.

“But... It stops, right? Eventually?”

He sighs.

“No, not completely. But it does get better.”

I look up, his eyes fixed on unseen memories and past horrors. “Slowly, and not completely, but it gets better.

“And your friends?”

Steve smiles, sadly and barely an upturn of his lips.

“They're your friends, too.”

A deflection, but I let him have it.

And it might even be true.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I ever miss a TW, please let me know. I'll always be grateful for your help.  
> And feedback is always welcome, positive or negative, so leave a comment whenever you like.  
> Also, I will admit that I have a habit of filling in my favorite characters in anything I write with random pieces of myself, so that's where Bucky's obsessions with Peppermint Mochas and H.P. Lovecraft come from. Sorry?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we get to a touch of WinterWidow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo sorry for being late. I was busy with a sibling having their wisdom teeth out, then I was just too tired, then my computer died on me, and now I'm currently sick but I made it.  
> So, yeah, I know that's a lot of excuses and this is a really short chapter but I hope you like it?

The next few days are pretty much the same. I made breakfast in the communal kitchen one morning, since I couldn't sleep and had Jarvis inform everyone when they were awake. There was hot coffee, pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast, and porridge, as well as plenty of fresh fruit.

There were some strange looks when I laid out the porridge, but they soon turned into sounds that shouldn't be made in polite company.

I promised under duress that I would make meals more often.

I spent a lot of time in the library, but sometimes I get restless and need to move. Some days I walk around the tower but others I end up in the gym and pummel a few of Steve's reinforced bags.

I'm on one of my usual treks to the gym late at night(or early morning, depending on who you ask) when I hear music. The song is slow and the words capture your attention; there's a begging to the lyrics.

I follow the sound to the mirrored room where Natalia, eyes closed and body graceful, is dancing like I've never seen. She leaps and spins before dropping in a heap and immediately rising again.

I slide to the floor, unnoticed by the entrancing ballerina. Her movements are sinuous and sensual, unmasked and perfectly executed.

When she finally sinks to floor on the final note, like a puppet with her strings cut, I can't help but think... she's beautiful.

As if on cue, she opens her eyes and looks directly at me.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Our eyes are locked and I don't even care that it could be awkward; those green eyes swallow all cares.

She turns away and unfolds herself; I stand and help her to her feet.

Her hands are unimaginably soft, considering the vocation she's in, and her eyes are even more beautiful up close; so much green with flecks of gold...

“I should go,” she says softly, cheeks going a shade of pink that I can't help but find cute.

She bends to grab her towel and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You dance beautifully.”

She blushes even more, smiling shyly.

“Thank you.”

I walk back to our apartment feeling like there's something important staring me in the face.

Steve pulls is head out of the fridge (probably getting a midnight snack) and squints at me.

“What happened?” He closes the door, forgetting whatever he was looking for.

I lean against the counter and cross my arms, screwing up my face in concentration.

“I knew her.”

“What?”

“Natalia. I knew her.”

“Well, yeah, we knew that.”

I shake my head, because of course he doesn't get it

Running a hand through my hair I begin to pace and growl in frustration.

“Come on, don't push it. Remember what Sam said?”

I know he's right, but it's like I can almost taste it. It's right there! I knew her, but... There's something so important and I have to remember...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't seem to find the video I had in mind when I wrote the dance scene for Nat, but I'll post a link to it if I ever find it?  
> As always, feedback keeps me writing

**Author's Note:**

> It would be great if you would give me some feedback.


End file.
